


gently scrambled

by pseudocitrus



Series: otsukaresama AU [2]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shironeki | White-haired Kaneki, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudocitrus/pseuds/pseudocitrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts as an accident — an unexpected consequence of not having time for each other, except at work, where their interactions are limited to announcing drink orders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. reveal

**Author's Note:**

> so one day i was talking with fangirlingforeverz and she was like “You realize that I need to request secret sex freak kuroneki touken from you now right”
> 
> and months later i finally got around to it :’)
> 
> this fic is also inspired by the touken smuts made by [binleysbin](http://tmblr.co/mN5DPwtK1Nx5CM6-IPHdtDw) and a post i saw there that was like “there needs to be more stuff with Kaneki being dominant” (which made me go… _YEAH THERE DOES_ ) anyway, WOW, if you have not yet seen those touken smuts, please do yourself a favor and do it they are so beautiful amazing ///
> 
> hope you’re having a good day!

It happens as an accident — an unexpected consequence of not having time for each other, except at work, where their interactions are limited to announcing drink orders to each other and brushing hands or shoulders casually as they serve up lattes or wipe milk and coffee grounds off the counters.

It’s the most they have, thanks to recent issues. Touka is worrying about her brother, and Hinami, and her finals; and Kaneki needs to find a new apartment. In the meantime he’s staying in Anteiku’s break room, which is fine, but affords no privacy unless Touka manages to get the closing shift with him.

Which she does, finally, today.

They mop up and sweep and restock the milk fridges, tensely. As soon as they dim the lights, Kaneki’s hands circle her waist, and she turns around and threshes her hands through his hair and rips his dark wig right off.

The whole thing — it’s an accident. They’re too desperate — his heart is pulsing way too fast — and he’s way too hard, after just feeling the heat and heft of her skin beneath her uniform. They stumble, from one wall to the other, emitting nothing but desperate breaths until they finally make it to the break room and collapse onto his makeshift bed.

Touka loosens her uniform tie, and Kaneki does the same to his own, hooking his index finger into the knot and tugging. Once hers is undone, Touka reaches for him, and Kaneki grabs her wrists in one hand and shoves them over her head.

It happens so fast. He’s kneeling over her, her legs bent to either side of him; he loops his tie around her hands, once and then again, crosswise, and knots them together. Her eyes widen; impulsively she jerks her hands down, and effects only a clack and _thud_. He’s tied her to the stem of the break room’s standing lamp.

Touka’s impermeability is so constant that seeing her like this — laid out, and vulnerable, and open — is like a dream. She is just as needy as she made him, when he returned, and he wonders if she enjoyed it as much as he is enjoying seeing her this way now. Her face is beautifully flushed and the lamp shudders again.

“K-Kaneki,” she gasps. “H-how — how am I supposed to —”

He puts a finger to his mouth, indicating, _Hush._

“I’ll do it,” he tells her, and she turns redder.

“I — I can’t just let you — do _all_ of it — K-Kaneki, just —”

But her protests fall on deaf ears, and then dissolve into incomprehensible groans as he undoes her vest, and her blouse, and her bra, reaching behind to its clasp. Kaneki lifts the loose cups like dish cloches. Her breasts tremble as she gasps; he prods one to watch it quiver more, and then lays the pad of a finger onto one stiff nipple and rolls it around.

“Touka-chan,” he murmurs, “you’re already hard,” and Touka grits her teeth.

“S-so are you,” she snaps, shakily, and then gasps and whines as he descends on her with grips and squeezes and broad, hungry licks.

“That’s right,” he replies belatedly, hoarsely, and then he says, “Lift your legs,” and she does it. Her legs shake as she strains to keep them up while he unzips her skirt and flings it aside. His nails scratch lightly against her skin and leave it pebbled with goosebumps as he rakes off her tights and underwear.

Well — as he almost rakes them off. He leaves them bundled around her calves and ankles, and her eyes widen as she kicks and realizes her limited motion, and that he’s going to leave her that way.

“Ka — _Kaneki_ —”

Kaneki sighs. Her _voice._

Pleading — cracking — high, and breathy. A sound and a side that she never shows. He crooks his hand, angling precisely. His palm cradles her clit and fondles it with every stroke of his longest fingers into her sex.

“K-Ka — _Kaaahh_ —”

Her back arches — her hips jerk — she’s trying to position himself better against him, but she can’t brace properly. The lamp bulb rattles and flickers as she squirms and he presses her wrists into the bed to prevent her from getting carried away and toppling the lamp onto both of them.

It turns out to be a good idea; her orgasm is abrupt, and hard, and her body goes into paroxysms of helpless thrashing and cries. Even when she falls still her breasts heave, and her arms give occasional spasms. Kaneki presses against her, feeling the throes of every one, relishing how her panting huffs the hair on his face. He brings his hand up from between her legs and slips his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them off with audible smacks.

Touka swallows; she licks her lips. Her legs pedal, feebly, until friction against Kaneki’s body allows her to roll off her tights and underwear. Her legs bend, knees digging into his waist, and Kaneki takes the hint, though he makes her wait as he stands and strips. Then he lies against her, arms framing her head, and fucks her again, this time with their moans right up against each other’s ears.

:::

She is still not totally sure what happened to him while he was out running around out who-knows-where, or while he was out under Aogiri’s claw. But this sort of — …thing — is the last thing that she would have expected him to develop.

“It’s not…really…a new thing,” Kaneki says quietly. And then he adds, again, “I’m sorry. It was an accident.”

“You obviously have no idea what an ‘accident’ is,” Touka replies, and persists. “What do you mean, it’s not new?”

“I-I don’t know,” he says, and she grabs his hand just as it raises to rub his fucking chin, which is really a feat, given how sore her arms are.

“You’ve done stuff like that before,” she says, trying to goad him, and he turns red.

“N-no! I…just…a book,” he says, helplessly.

“A _book_?” she echoes, and he misinterprets her disbelief.

“W-well…more than one. Maybe, um. A lot of them.” He’s starting to look a little ill. “But they’re all gone now, with wherever they took all the stuff in my old apartment. A-anyway, um, thank you for — for indulging me. I won’t…again.”

Touka frowns, and finds that with him being this awkward about it, she can’t really say anything either.

“It’s alright,” she tries, “you don’t need to apologize,” but his returning smile is weak, and she figures he is misinterpreting this too, and not hearing properly that this is the one thing that she has experienced in weeks that she has been able to  indulge in fully, without thoughts of where her brother is, or whether she’ll fail out of school. Her next chance to communicate properly is when she goes to help him move his few possessions into his new residence.

“I’ve got a gift for you,” she announces. “A moving-in gift.”

The book’s cover is wrapped in paper. He blinks, and takes it, and opens it, and then shuts it with a clap.

They stand in silence. He stares at her, and Touka meets his eyes, briefly, and then looks down at the floor.

Then they move to his bed, and open the book again, together.


	2. honest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touka is having trouble being honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o/////////o
> 
> ....i hope you're having a good day!

She was the one who got him the book, but Touka is still having trouble being honest with him.

“I don’t know,” she says, whenever he asks what they should try next, and maybe it’s true. She’s particularly glum recently; she ended up doing so poorly on one of her recent exams that at work she’s quiet, and only bothers making leaves for all her latte art.

“You know you can retake tests, right?” Kaneki says.

She looks up, glumly. “Really?”

“Yeah. It might not always work,” he warns, but this time, apparently, it does. She asks if he can help her study at his apartment.

 _“Study,”_ she emphasizes, and Kaneki smiles.

“Sure.”

At his apartment, he leaves her alone while he makes coffee for them. She sets up her notes and textbooks with thunks and rustling; and then, she is suspiciously quiet. He steps back, silently, with both mugs, and peers carefully at her from beyond a corner. Touka’s books are laid out on the table, but the book she is looking at presently is the one that she gave him.

She’s biting her lip.

Kaneki taps his feet audibly on the floor and hears Touka gasp and clap the book shut. He gives her a second to cram the book away, and then enters.

“Ready to begin?” he asks cheerfully.

“Y-yes,” she coughs.

He helps her with reading, interpreting; they make lists, flash cards. She leaves looking cautiously optimistic, and he closes the door and heads straight back to the bookshelf.

:::

He breaks it to her the next time they meet, after her second exam has finished.

“You closed the book too fast, Touka-chan,” he murmurs, and her eye rolls up toward him, wide, bewildered. Her hands are tied together, to the small of her back; the rope is coiled around her torso, too, tight across the top and bottom of her breasts, which are protruding from her unbuttoned shirt. She’s standing, hips against the table they used for study; he presses against her back and rolls one nipple into a point as she shivers.

“You closed it too fast, and you left a huge crease on the page you were looking at,” he continues in a whisper into her ear. “I know exactly what you want now. So, if you’re wondering why I’ve wrapped something into your mouth this time, that’s the reason. You couldn’t be honest with me. What’s the point of you talking?”

Touka makes a noise through her tie. The satin of it is already beginning to moisten around the corners of her mouth. He checks that the knot behind her head is still tight, and then pushes her forward, so that the majority of her body is lying on the table. Kaneki removes her skirt and tights and underwear, and then nudges her ankles until her legs are spread.

“Keep that position,” he tells her. He places an index and forefinger into his mouth, moistening it, and then forms a V-shape and caresses the skin on either side of her clit, lightly, until her breath grows ragged and her toes curl. Then he puts a finger into his mouth again, coating them liberally with saliva, and slides it into her slit. This time she makes an audible groan; her forehead mashes into the table. He strokes her a couple times, until she is relaxed, and then raises his other hand and smacks it against her butt.

Touka cries out — her whole body jerks — her legs press together and he forces them apart again, patiently.

“Keep them apart,” he reminds her, and she only has time to nod once before he spanks her again, harder. The sound is loud, and unexpectedly satisfying; his hand descends again, and he feels himself getting harder as Touka’s muscles convulse around the fingers inserted firmly inside her.

He rubs his hand on her ass, soothing.

“I wonder why you wanted this,” Kaneki muses. “It’s pretty kinky of you, Touka-chan. I can understand why you were embarrassed to ask me, even though you shouldn’t have been. I’d happily do something like this to you for hours.”

He slaps her again. Her flesh is so smooth and plump — the way it quivers after each impact is delicious. It’s beginning to redden too, a little, and he clicks his tongue. The colors of her cheeks are becoming uneven.

He withdraws his fingers from her and switches hands. This time, no saliva is required; she’s so wet that two fingers of his other hand slide in easily. He hooks his fingers a little, petting the trembling walls of her, and she whines and stands on her toes, and then —

_Smack._

“Maybe it’s because you failed that test? Were you ashamed?“

_Smack._

“Did you want to be punished?”

_Smack._

She’s jumping with each contact, but maintaining position. The color of her face is starting to match her ass. And he’s starting to feel a little dizzy; every time he hits her he can feel her clench down on him. He can fit a third finger into her now, almost a fourth, and she is moaning every time he spanks her, and her knuckles are pale, and he undoes his belt and his slacks and releases his painfully hard cock. He runs it up and down against her, slicking himself up, teasing her with the proximity.

“Really, Touka-chan, you’ve done quite a lot of things that you should be punished for,” Kaneki says in a low voice. “Like the time you broke my finger, so long ago. That wasn’t necessary, you know?”

_Smack._

“Or even the time you punched me, on the bridge.”

_Smack._

“Thinking about it now, it’s so obvious that you just wanted me to come back. Why is honesty so hard for you, Touka-chan?”

Even through her gag he can tell that her voice is getting a little hoarse. Her skin is vivid, almost emanating heat; and it’s making little spasms now, even when he isn’t touching it. He rolls her onto her back.

Her tied hands make her arch beautifully. Her tie is completely soaked through; part of her chin is gleamy with saliva. Her hair is so disheveled he can see that both her eyes are glassy and hungry as they watch him pose his cock against her sex.

“At least your body is honest with me,” Kaneki says, and he penetrates, slow. Her eyes squeeze shut; she throws her head back and cries out, and he suspects that even if she didn’t have the gag on, she would be incoherent. Her body gives violent shudders with every centimeter, the same as when he’d spanked her. Her ass is hanging off the table, and when he’s bottomed into her he poises his hand on it again and is rewarded with an anticipatory judder.

“Listen, Touka-chan,” he says. “Listen. Are you listening to me?”

She says something and then realizes the futility of it and then nods, weakly. He caresses her ass with his palm.

“I’m happy to punish you,” he tells her. “Because I want you to be better. Because...because no matter how many mistakes you make, I’m going to stay with you. I’m never leaving again.”

She blinks, rapidly. He kisses the tie across her open mouth, and then straightens, and raises his hand, one last time.

_Smack._

“A- _ahh_ —”

This time the moan is his; he bows a little, shakes. The way she’d clenched around his fingers before — is _nothing_ like how it feels to have her body grip his dick. And — and the way her hips are jerking against him, needy — he shuts his eyes, urgent, but it only amplifies the sound of her harsh exhales, and the loud, slick noise of his next stroke —

He doesn’t risk another glance at her. He holds her thighs apart, presses them hard into the table so she doesn’t shift as he thrusts into her again and again.

 _Concentrate,_ he begs.  _Concentrate._

Automatically, numbers flit through his head —  _one thousand — nine hundred and ninety three —_  something sharp and dark begins to gnaw at his fingers, his ears, his toes. He sucks in a breath.

 _No,_  he thinks.  _Don’t think of that._

Only think of Touka. The warmth of her body — the embrace of her muscles — the increasing volume of her voice. He lets his pleasure, and hers, fill him. When she comes it’s with such force that her back rises up off the table, and he can’t contain it anymore, he climaxes, pistoning into her messily, vision flashing white and black.

:::

Afterward, Kaneki helps her sit up, and unties her mouth, and her arms. Her jaw opens and closes, working off the ache. Usually Touka is so sore afterward that she rolls over and recovers by herself while he makes her coffee.

The pose today was new, so he suspects she’s even more sore than usual — but instead of lying down, she leans forward onto him, limply, her forehead against his shoulder. Her arms raise and wrap around his waist. He blinks, and she squeezes him, wordless.


	3. jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touka is jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> done for a tumblr prompt! contains the 69 that was asked for. and uh. other stuff.
> 
> hope you're having a good day!

Kaneki has finally dyed his hair back.

…well, the more accurate statement is probably that Touka has finally gotten around to dyeing it.

“I’m sick of seeing everyone come in and do nothing but stare at you for five minutes before actually making an order,” Touka grumbles, positioning the shower head to wash him off with cold water. “That group that came in today is the last straw.”

“That group of girls that wanted a picture?” Kaneki asks. His eyes pinch shut as Touka waggles the spray briefly over his face.

“What other group could I be talking about?!”

“Well, there were a couple others that approached me after work the other day for a picture too,” Kaneki explains. She’s done rinsing; he sits up, wringing a handful of his hair. “I think my clothing stands out a little more than before.”

Touka frowns at him and drops a towel on his head.

He  _does_  have a new sense of fashion. Too much exposure to Tsukiyama, probably. She rubs the towel around, maybe a little more vigorously than necessary, and then arranges it around his shoulders and observes her work.

Kaneki pushes his hair out of his eyes and looks up at her.

“Is it okay?” he asks, when she doesn’t say anything, and Touka coughs.

“Y-yeah. It’s…good.”

He looks…so much like he did before. It’s…a little surreal. Her gut reaction to this black-haired Kaneki is to correct his posture and poke his stomach to check for muscle, but…that kind of impulse is unnecessary now. The Kaneki that she remembers, she realizes, is really never coming back.

And the one presently in front of her still has a certain coldness in some of his motions that catches her off guard. Even the way he looks at her sometimes — well, the way he is looking at her now — ahh —

“W-what?” she asks.

“I’ve really changed,” he says. “Haven’t I.”

Touka’s mouth thins; she makes herself shrug.

“Mostly,” she says.

“Mostly?”

She coughs. “Anyway, your hair looks fine. Let’s see anyone be interested in you now,” she mutters, and Kaneki’s eyes light a little, in a way that is familiar but definitely not like the old Kaneki at all.

“Touka-chan,” he says. “Were you jealous?”

“ _What?_  Jealous? No,” she says, “not at all,” but now Kaneki’s hands are at her hips, and he is murmuring “Be honest,” and her knees are starting to feel a little shaky.

“Maybe a little,” she mumbles, looking away, and she shivers as he puts his mouth to her ear.

“Well, Touka-chan, how do you think that I feel?”

:::

“Watching you talk to customers all day with that shy, sweet personality that you never even show me yourself…I wonder if you even think of me at all when you’re talking to them.”

In the back room, Kaneki smiles his approval for her rarely-worn skirt uniform, and reaches beneath it. He rubs, and Touka releases a slow breath and spreads her legs. They bow a little awkwardly, and Kaneki gestures.

“Sit,” he says, and she pushes herself up onto a box, carefully, trying to avoid it getting — uhm — stained. Not — that she’s —  _that_  wet already, but — but Kaneki’s thumb is stroking so steadily — and he’s already easing aside her tights and underwear — and giving her a long, slow lick —

She sighs, but even then thinks,  _This is weird,_  mostly because she locked the door herself, so this whole scenario isn’t particularly exciting. Her confusion disperses when Kaneki begins to fit a finger inside of her, and returns again in full force when she realizes that it isn’t his finger at all. It’s too hard, and too — round? And it —

_It’s — vibrating —!_

Touka makes a noise that is a lot like a squeal, and she claps her hand over her mouth. She can only see Kaneki’s eyes from above her skirt, but they squinch up in what is definitely a smile. Her thighs press together, in a vain attempt to keep the thing from moving; but it pauses again a moment later, on its own.

Well, maybe not on its own. Kaneki, she realizes, is holding something that looks very suspiciously like a remote control.

:::

To Touka, the bulge in Kaneki’s vest pocket looks only a little less obvious than her new, weird stagger. She’s never…with, um…things like this. The feeling of it inside her is foreign and heavy.

“What if it falls out,” she asks, as quietly as possible, to which Kaneki cheerfully asks, “What if what falls out?”

So she walks with her legs held together, the best that she can. Nishiki is already giving her a suspicious side-eye, and she ignores him determinedly. Somehow the thought of being exposed as a human serving coffee with a sex toy inside her seems way worse than being discovered as a ghoul.

“Welcome,” Touka says to the first customer, in what is almost a squeak, and she fully expects it then, and that’s probably why Kaneki holds off. She relaxes. Maybe he’ll at least give her an hour.

“Welcome,” she says to the second customer, and  _it — it’s —_

It’s vibrating inside of her, relentless, massaging the muscles gripping it and quickly making them feel no stronger than gelatin. It’s so —  _deep_  — and so new, and so insistent, and Kaneki had let her have a little taste before, but for just a second, and she shouldn’t, she shouldn’t, but even two or three or four seconds is enough to make her feel like —

It stops.

Touka chokes. She glances wildly in Kaneki’s direction, and sees only that he’s making a face that looks convincingly puzzled. Nishiki is beside him, eyes fully narrowed now. Touka turns away.

“S-sorry,” she coughs to the customer. “What…can I…get you?”

“An Americano,” they reply, without batting an eye, and Touka sighs with a relief that dies when Nishiki comes up behind her at the espresso machine.

“What the hell?” he hisses.

“What?” Touka asks back, in a low grumble.

“You,” he says. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing’s the matter, I’m —  _fine_!” She gasps, again, and can’t help her hand from rising to her belly.  _Fuck,_  the vibrator is shaking something loose inside her, something that rolls thick and cloying and through every nerve, she feels like her head is trying to float away from her body,  _fuck_ , Nishio is looking at her strangely,  _fuck,_  did he say something to her? Did he say something just now?

“I’m fine,” Touka mumbles again, and turns, and snatches up a pitcher. Its bottom bangs across the counter. Out of her periphery, she can see Nishiki crossing his arms.

“Kaneki,” he says. “She’s acting weird, right?”

“I don’t really notice anything,” Kaneki says, with perfect composure, as Touka heaves out a milk carton. Its bottom smacks; droplets of milk fleck the espresso machine.

“But, Touka-chan,” Kaneki continues, “you know the customer didn’t order anything with milk, right?”

“…right,” Touka mutters. “I knew that.”

She jams the carton back into the fridge, and sets the pitcher aside. And then she stares, biting her lip, at the counter.

“It was an Americano,” Kaneki says helpfully.

“…right.”

:::

The minutes begin to fuzz together into a strange, desperate haze. She’s struggling to keep her body under her control despite the fact that it feels increasingly like it’s coming apart at her knees and elbows. Kaneki always presses the button when she’s talking to someone, and her voice in the first hour is quiet and in the next gets unnecessarily loud. It seems to her that her words are buzzing alongside her body, and she can’t imagine why this doesn’t seem obvious to anyone.

Her panic at being discovered soon numbs and gives way into desperation for something different. No matter how many times he turns it on, he won’t let her get close.

“ _Kaneki,_ ” she gasps, suddenly, and there’s just enough frustration in it that they both look around the cafe. All of the customers are occupied — Nishiki is gone — it’s just them now, and it’s slow.

He turns back to her. “What is it?”

She glares at him to convey,  _You know_.

“Touka-chan,” he says, brows lifting. “Are you seriously telling me that you want to come  _right here_?”

Touka’s face burns. “ _Quiet_!” she hisses, but he just continues on in a volume that seems so loud to her that he might as well be shouting across the entire cafe.

“I had no idea you were that much of a pervert.”

“K-K-Ka —  _Kaneki_  —”

“I thought you just wanted to be polite and that’s the reason you’re so sweet and shy to strangers. To think that Touka-chan would actually like to show them a different expression completely —”

“Kaneki,  _quiet_ , someone’s going to hear —”

“Don’t worry, Touka-chan.” His smile is bright, and a little too broad. “I hope it’s clear now that you have no need to be jealous. All my attention is focused on you, and there’s no way I’ll let you come. I’ve spent too much time and effort carefully preparing you, and I’m not going to share my after-work snack with  _anyone_.”

Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_ , she thought the vibrator was going to kill her but she was wrong, she was wrong, it’s definitely this, it’s definitely Kaneki’s dark “white” side that still exists and the ridiculous shit it’s saying that’s going to make her die, of pure embarrassment.

“ _Kaneki,_ ” she gasps, “ _shut up,_ ” but now Kaneki is saying “Maybe you should be worried about your own voice, Touka-chan,” and this time it’s a whisper, and this time his hand is going into his pocket.

The vibration hits her much more strongly this time — one knee actually gives out, just a bit, as the world spins. If her cry isn’t audible, the slap of her hands on her mouth is — or maybe the bang of her hip against the counter — it hits her —  _so strongly_  — in waves, in tidals, in spirals. The vibration hits her so much more strongly this time and it actually  _is_  stronger, she realizes belatedly. A higher setting, a deeper stir. She’s going to collapse and her toes are curling in her shoes and maybe she — maybe he —

It stops.

Some time later, she realizes that she’s panting. Her hands are gripping the counter. The chrome condenses beneath her palms, and her nails are making a rattling noise against the surface.

She opens her mouth, and closes it.

 _Don’t beg_ , she thinks.  _Don’t. You can do it. Don’t. Don’t_.

_But —_

_Don’t._

The echo of the buzz through her skin feels worse than the real thing.

Kaneki is calling her, she realizes.

“What?” Touka asks. Her voice is bare. She starts toward him, but the vibrator was moving so much that when she takes a step forward she feels it begin to slip out, and she halts, shakily. Her hand reaches down automatically to adjust it and pauses at the edge of her skirt as she spots someone approaching the counter. Kaneki follows her gaze and looks back at her poised hand.

“Can you do it?” Touka asks.  _Take the customer’s order,_  she means. Kaneki nods, and walks — not toward the register, but to her. He reaches swiftly beneath her skirt, finding the bottom of the vibrator and pushing it back up inside her, deeper, with a twist. Touka sucks in a breath and wavers again. Kaneki’s fingers, when they emerge, are glistening. He swipes them briefly in and out of his mouth, and then runs his hands under a faucet, calling out.

“Sorry for the delay,” he calls, just as the customer looks away from the menu. “What can I get for you?”

:::

It’s been over three hours now. The last half hour, she was useless — tripping over her feet, and easily distracted, and spending way too much time staring at Kaneki’s fingers. Sensing it, Kaneki didn’t bother turning the vibrator on at all, and she finds that this worse than being teased all day.

She’s going to fall apart.

“Kaneki,” she says as he locks the front door, and the sound comes out more like a moan than she intended, and there are still a ton of things to do before they’re finished closing up, but Kaneki, yes,  _finally,_  grabs her hand. They rush, and rush, until they are in the break room, until Touka is seated on the couch.

“Show me,” Kaneki says, but Touka is already raising her skirt, legs pedaling feverishly. Her tights and underwear unpeel from her wetly; her skin is shiny all the way down to the middle of her inner thighs. Kaneki’s hand cups over his mouth; he muffles a strangled noise, grabs himself. His pants are bulging.

“It’s been hours,” Touka finds herself protesting. It’s a whine, but she’s too desperate to be horrified with her tone, and with what she says next. “You have to let me go first. You have to. I — I  _really need to._

“ _Kaneki,_ ” she says, when he doesn’t say anything, “you  _have_  to,” she has never seen him speechless before, he wavers and swallows and,  _yes,_  finally speaks.

“Let’s try something new.”

:::

He removes the vibrator and her clothes, and then takes off his own and lies down on the couch. Shakily, Touka lowers herself into him, until their bellies are touching, until she can feel his breath on her clit.

His cock is right up in front of her face. Kaneki pumps it and holds it up for her, and Touka gingerly takes it into her mouth.

“Lick it,” he says, and his words are both hot and cold against her wet lips. Touka quivers and presses the flat of her tongue against the tip of him, lapping up a bead of precum, and the moment she does Kaneki begins licking her too — arranging her so that he can lap along her thighs first, then setting his hands on her ass and lowering her against his mouth so he can finally,  _finally_  —

It’s ridiculous; hours of being forced at the very edge of herself have made her a hungry mess. She reciprocates Kaneki’s deep, centered licks with sucks and squeezes, both relishing and hating the way his groans break into his ministrations of her.

Though she was the one with the vibrator, it’s apparent that the hours weren’t entirely easy on him either. Soon, she can feel the muscles on his abdomen jerking and tightening in a way that is entirely familiar, and she buries his cock into her mouth just in time to feel heat splash against her tongue and throat. She swallows, and grinds her hips impatiently against Kaneki’s face, and he stops his gasping long enough to thrust into her with a couple hooked fingers.

Yeah — yes —  _yes_  —

Touka cries out, and spasms, so hard that she almost falls off him. His nails dig into her side, stabilizing her. The heat that feels like it’s spilling from her body quells for just a moment before it rises again, ballooning all the way to her fingertips.

:::

Maybe…

Maybe it was too much.

“Touka-chan,” Kaneki whispers after a moment. “Touka-chan?”

There’s no response. Gingerly, he eases her off his body, and though she grumbles and furrows her brows, she quickly falls still again into a corner of the couch, breathing steady and deep. Every once in a while, her finger or leg twitches.

His heart swells. He finds his sweater and drapes it over her, and she wiggles herself into place beneath it, nuzzling her face into the fabric with a sigh.

“Good job,” he whispers, combing her disheveled hair, and her face colors, a little.

“You too,” she admits in a mumble.

“This is thanks for dyeing my hair, too,” Kaneki adds, and Touka huffs, and then considers. Her next words are very quiet.

“Just let me know if you ever want it white again.”


	4. save

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to keep occupied even while apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> silly fic prompted from tumblr. the prompt was touken and grapholagnia: the urge to stare at obscene pictures. o///o

For years they have tried studying together for Touka’s various important exams.

“This one’s important,” Touka explains, as she does every time, and, just as he does every time, Kaneki nods.

“I understand.”

“No,” Touka says. “ _Really_ important. So I don’t want to…at all, beforehand.”

This veers from the script.

“Really?” Kaneki says in surprise. “Starting when?”

“I don’t know,” Touka replies. Her words are quick with embarrassment. “I don’t know. Now? I just…I just don’t want to be…sore, this time. It’s distracting. Don’t laugh,” she snaps.

“I’m not laughing,” Kaneki says hastily. He coughs, trying to find time to take control of his expression. “I’m just…uh…surprised. That you can hold out for that long.”

“It’s you that can’t hold out,” Touka grumbles, and Kaneki scratches his head.

“Yeah,” he decides to say. He sighs.

“Well,” he continues, “I’ll miss you.”

“Yeah,” Touka says, after a pause. She looks away, in thought, and for a second Kaneki hopes she’ll suggest at least one last meeting to work off her nervous energy. She opens her mouth.

“Maybe…” She trails off, and grimaces, which is a sure sign that she’s thought of something good. Kaneki nudges her.

“What?”

Touka’s cheeks redden, which means it’s  _really_  good. This time, the nudge is a little harder.

_“What?”_

Her voice is so low that she has to explain it twice for him to hear properly.

But, it does turn out to be a good idea.

:::

“Your apartment,” Kaneki decides immediately. She agrees, and when he arrives with three different bags in tow, her nerves start to itch.

But he’s so excited.

“These first,” he says, handing her a bag, and Touka goes into another room to change. What she finds in the bag is pastel, and has way more lace than she expected, and once everything is on, she surveys herself in the mirror. Does this…really look good? Does she really look good? Good enough to take a picture of?

It’s not her first time wearing lingerie, but it is the first time that Kaneki has picked it himself. There are holes in these that she at first panics about and then realizes are intended to be there.

“You’re a — huge pervert,” she announces when she exits the room. Her voice shakes, just a little.

Kaneki is waiting on her bed. Upon seeing her, he looks away impulsively, and then covers his face with one hand and looks back.

“It looks — good,” he mutters.

For a second, the fact of what they are really, actually doing sinks in. They laugh, weakly, and then a little more strongly.

_This is ridiculous._

Then Touka uncrosses her arms from her body, and Kaneki pulls out his phone.

:::

Getting started is more difficult than she thought. Kaneki has her lie on her bed, but after that — the poses are hard to think of, and Touka feels awkward with every expression, and Kaneki keeps fumbling with his phone and accidentally drops it onto her bare stomach.

“Ow — what the hell!”

“S-sorry —“

They take photos and flip through them, silently.

“You look uncomfortable,” Kaneki says. Touka frowns.

“I can’t help it,” she protests, and Kaneki says. “I know. Sorry. I should help.”

He looks away, thinking. And then he looks back.

“Spread your legs. Hold them apart,” he says, and the quality of his voice is different, it’s firm and certain and Touka leans back and obeys, swallowing. The usual butterflies bloom in her belly, and she sucks in a breath to keep them down as Kaneki’s hand begins to stroke the lace between her legs.

It takes a minute or so before the heat on her cheeks becomes less about embarrassment and more about something else. The heat isn’t just on her cheeks now, either.

“T-the —“ The lingerie. “If you keep — then they’re going to get —”

“Good,” he tells her. “Make them nice and wet, so the camera can see.”

Touka’s face turns redder. When he gets like that… _fuck._ She shuts her eyes and turns her head away as one finger begins to slip into the slit in her underwear, and further.

“It’s so easy now,” he murmurs. “One finger isn’t enough for you anymore, is it?”

It isn’t. But it certainly gets close if he hooks his finger like that. Touka sighs and her back arches, just a little, as Kaneki continues rubbing insistently inside her.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” Kaneki says, and the instant that she does, she hears the sound of a shutter. Kaneki withdraws, and takes another photo, of his finger, and the thin, gleaming line of moisture that connects it to her cunt. The next picture he takes after pressing his finger into her mouth, and allowing her to cradle and clean it against her tongue.

Touka remains in pose, legs trembling, as Kaneki reviews again. Finally, there aren’t any apologies or nervous laughing. He just looks at his phone screen, and then keeps looking. Then his gaze fixes on her again.

Her upcoming exams, and the ridiculousness of them taking pictures like this in her own room — as usual, her anxieties turn hazy and diluted by her focus on following him, by the static in her veins. She pushes her underwear aside and the shutter goes off as he instructs her to part herself wider, wider. She inserts one finger, and then another, at his request; but then he asks her to withdraw, and Touka hesitates just a little before doing it.

 _Later_ , she reassures herself.  _Later_. Kaneki always makes her wait; and she can always do it.

“Push your bra up,” Kaneki is saying now, and she obliges. She squishes her breasts together; she eases her underwear off as he snaps away.

“Next,” he says, handing her the second bag. This time the lingerie is black, and she changes, wary of the sound of him rummaging around in her bedroom. He is seated innocuously when she returns, though, and she doesn’t have much time to think about it, because now he is asking her to lick her fingers, and then pinch her nipples into peaks beneath the fine mesh of her new outfit.

“Good,” he murmurs to himself, review the photos again. He looks up. “Now get on your belly.”

 _Soon now_. Touka rolls over, with some difficulty; Kaneki reaches for her arm and for a second she thinks he is helping her and then she realizes that he is actually bending her hand to touch the small of her back. Her other wrist is pulled over to join it, and now Touka know what it was he was rummaging around for earlier: rope.

Goosebumps rise across her upper arms as he draws the knot tight. He grabs her hips and arranges her so that her knees are bent, and ass lifted.

 _This is it_ , she thinks. His palm smooths over her cheek and the hairs rise on her nape. She leans into him, just a little bit, inviting. His next words are quiet.

“That’s not good, Touka. Didn’t you say earlier that you wanted to hold off?”

 _What_? Touka thinks, in shock.  _What? Did I?_

 _I did,_  she realizes, with horror, and Kaneki whispers.

“You’re not off to a good start for studying if you can’t remember something that you said yourself. But,” he says, “I’m a little glad. I really wanted to get a photo of you nice and red. So, I’ll help you warm up for studying with the usual exercise. Can you do it?”

“I — y-yes —”

 _Smack_.

“One,” Touka gasps, and she knows even before Kaneki says it: not loud enough, not clear enough.

 _Smack_.

“ _One_ ,” she repeats, and Kaneki cups his other palm over her sex, a tiny reward, before continuing.

 _Smack_.

“Two —”

 _Smack_.

“A-ah, three —”

Every slap reverberates through her. Despite the harshness of it, his other hand is still caressing her cunt, and pressing into it again. With the next smack she tightens up and is rewarded by Kaneki making a quickly-smothered noise.

 _Do it_ , Touka thinks.

He pulls his hand away.

“It’s a really good color now,” he says. “It almost matches your face.”

He sets his other hand on her other ass cheek.

“Now let’s balance it out.”

 _Smack. Smack. Smack_.

Faster. That he is barely giving her time to count aloud makes her heart beat faster, makes her struggle not to lean against him again when he pauses to survey her and determines the color still isn’t quite even and starts on the first cheek again. Her fingers flex and grip the rope. She licks up saliva that she didn’t realize was pooling in the corner of her mouth, and when Kaneki stops, she is panting.

 _Do it_ , she chants silently,  _do it, do it,_ usually Kaneki can’t resist this, usually Kaneki loses it and buries himself into her while her whole body is spanked so hard that every tiny contact makes every muscle quake deliciously. He bends down and exhales against her sex and she can’t help moaning into her bedsheets.

He kisses her, lightly. And takes a picture.

:::

“Kaneki,” Nishiki snaps, “ _pay some fucking attention_ ,” and Kaneki jumps, and sticks his phone into the pocket of his apron.

“Sorry — sorry, sorry.”

Nishiki glowers, so deeply that he needs to take a breath to meet the next customer with a smile. Kaneki takes a breath as well.

He really should stop looking at these pictures. At the very least, he should quit pulling out his phone during work.

But — it’s been a couple days now. They’ve been light about sending messages. And the fact that, in his pocket, are dozens of —

“ _Kaneki!_ ”

“Sorry!”

 _Later_ , he tells himself firmly.  _Later_. Touka is waiting, so he can too. Her exams will be finished today, so — so, soon. Soon.

But the color of her skin. Those last photos, with her looking up at him and licking her lips. And the way she looked in the contents of that very last bag —

Kaneki jumps as his phone goes off, and Nishiki gives him a look of total disdain. Bowing his apologies, Kaneki retreats behind a wall. He needs just a second to silence his phone. Just a second to —

There’s a new message.

 _done_ , Touka wrote. For a second, he thinks that’s it, but then the photo loads.

She’s — in a bathroom? One of the university bathrooms? It’s definitely not her apartment. She’s unbuttoned her shirt almost down to her belly, and he can see the lace of one of the bras he gave her, the black one. The phone is oriented downward, and her other hand is pulling her skirt up. Her underwear is pushed down, just low enough so that he can see it. The thin, protective plastic casing. The tiny lock.

“ _To help you,”_ he’d told her, sliding it on as she quivered. “ _So you can stay focused.”_

Some minutes pass before Kaneki realizes he’s still at work. He drifts back to the front, and checks the clock. Half an hour left. When he looks back to Nishiki, Nishiki is frowning, and sighing, and rubbing off one of the streamers, harshly.

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “Get out of here. It’s fine.”

“R-really?”

“Yes, really! You’re fucking useless anyway. Tell Touka she owes me, though,” Nishiki snaps, and Kaneki hesitates, and then goes off into the back room to change.

As he’s at the door, he looks back, one last time. Maybe he shouldn’t.

But it looks slow. And as he watches, Nishiki leans up against the counter, and pulls out his phone. His thumb starts flicking across the screen.

Yeah. He’s fine. Kaneki starts again, just as his phone rings again.

 _KANEKI_ , reads her newest message.

 _I’m coming_ , Kaneki replies hastily.

 _Well,_ he adds,  _I mean — not now. But soon._

_I mean, I am coming, right now._

_I mean_ , he starts again, but Touka is typing.

Or rather, sending another picture. This time, she is on her bed. One arm across her bare chest, phone angled from beneath. Her legs are parted, wide. Her thighs are gleaming, just a little, and the plastic too. As if it’s already…as if she’s already…

Kaneki swallows, hard.

 _OK_ , he replies, and rushes for the train platform.


End file.
